


all this happened by taking your hand

by misanthropicacedia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Ficlet, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Pain, heed the tags people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misanthropicacedia/pseuds/misanthropicacedia
Summary: John recounts the first time he held Sherlock's hand.He also recounts the last.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 1am this morning in about five minutes. It was in response to a writing prompt about firsts and lasts.

_First_

The first night John had slept in Sherlock’s bed, they had just finished a particularly gruelling case involving two missing children that were found dead in a zoo. The detective and his partner had eventually found the father to be the murderer, with the mother knowing all along it was him and covering for him. It had shaken John to his core and although Sherlock liked to act as though he wasn’t bothered, John could see the trouble etched across his face. He could see it in the way Sherlock sat a little closer to John in the cab ride home. And he could see it in the way Sherlock’s witticisms were running a little thin.

As the room was plunged into darkness, John suddenly felt a cold stab of anxiety pierce through his chest – it wasn’t like John was _afraid_ of the dark, so to speak, but lying here with the noise of London around him, he suddenly couldn’t stop remembering the remorseless demeanour of the father as the police apprehended him. He lay on his back, staring up into the dark, and saw the faces of the dead children swimming in front of him. And when he turned onto his side to face Sherlock, he knew Sherlock was lying awake as well, both of them unable to shut their minds off.

“John?” Sherlock’s quiet voice filled the space between them.

“Mm?”

Sherlock moved in closer to John’s space so their breaths were mingling together. “Will you hold my hand while I’m falling asleep?”

John had willingly obliged, his cool fingers snaking their way across the sheets to find Sherlock’s hand and curling around it comfortingly. And suddenly, with the weight of Sherlock’s hand in his, John found that he could close his eyes and allow sleep to take him.

It was the first time they had held hands.

And thus started the routine they used on the bad nights to lull the pair into sleep.

Sometimes John would simply reach out and take Sherlock’s hand in his, pulling it so he could hold it to his chest. Other times Sherlock would whisper out into the darkness, his voice tired: “Hold my hand, I am falling asleep.”

–

_Last_

When the bullet had entered Sherlock’s chest, John couldn’t quite believe it. It was as though he were watching the moment play out in slow motion as Sherlock went entirely pale and collapsed to the ground, blood rapidly spilling out to wet his shirt with angry crimson fingers.

John threw himself to the ground next to Sherlock and ripped his jacket from his shoulders, pressing it to his wound as the Sherlock’s breathing increased rapidly, his eyes wide with terror and pain.

“Come on, love,” John had uttered through gritted teeth. “Stay with me.”

“John,” Sherlock pulled in a rasping breath. “It’s no use.”

Sherlock’s voice was shaky and underneath the low tone, John heard the sound of rattling and he knew it was too late – the bullet had gone through to his lung, puncturing it fatally. His jacket was already soaked with warm blood and when John pulled away the fabric to examine the wound, he let out a choking sob, seeing the blood continuing to spill out of Sherlock’s chest.

“It’s … f-fine,” Sherlock gasped, a small smile on his lips.

“No … please …” John didn’t know what to do. He could only watch in horror as Sherlock’s eyes began to close. “Sherlock …”

John gripped onto Sherlock’s shoulders and shook him a little, urging him to stay awake. He could hear someone on the phone to the emergency services so he knew all he needed was for Sherlock to hold on for a moment longer so he could get some proper help.

“John …” Sherlock sighed out John’s name, his azure eyes opening again to hold steady onto John’s, mapping out his features like he were seeing him for the first time.

“What, love?” John breathed, entirely numb.

Sherlock’s hand moved up to reach for John’s as his eyes closed once more and his voice trailed out over his lips like a ghost: “Hold my hand, I am falling asleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think (and also feel free to point out any mistakes bc i was pretty much half asleep when i wrote this ok)


End file.
